13. Lennon
Chapter 13
Lennon
Morning Pages
D aring was jumping on a bar and cosplaying the characters from Coyote Ugly .
Been there, done that more than a few times. The younger days of my bartending life, I’d done just about anything for a job.
But being daring with this man…
Nerves skittered down my spine.
He’d already tossed me for a loop this morning. Twice.
From a sleepover, to breakfast, and following up with an orgasm that had rattled my brains.
Oh, and that was without even looking for a reciprocal blow job.
Who was this guy?
I should have been running for the hills. I could practically hear his gravel drive kick out from my tires while I sped back to my safe apartment.
And yet here I was, sitting on his lap.
I didn’t do daring when it came to sex.
But I wanted to—this time. There was something elemental about the way he made me feel. Like there was a storm brewing under my skin.
I lifted the hem of the soft T-shirt—which I would be stealing, thank you very much—and tossed it over the arm of the guitar beside us.
His green eyes were intent on my face, even though my exceptional tits were on display.
He never did exactly what I expected.
I rocked forward and drew my thong-covered center over his very happy cock. His jaw did that flex thing, which stirred me up. I kept up the easy rocking as I slowly unwound my braid.
He liked my hair.
That much I’d figured out, at least.
I didn’t wear it natural that often, preferring to bind it with braids or to attack it with a flat iron, but the wild suited this moment. I definitely wasn’t behaving as I normally did.
The chemistry between us was electric.
Lightly, he stroked his fingertips up and down my thighs in an echo of the easy rhythm I’d started. Until there was nothing easy about the moment between us. He took over and controlled the angle of my hips, dragging me a little rougher against him with each pass.
My breath hitched as the friction ramped up the chaos inside me.
Determined to regain some of my equilibrium, I shook out my hair until it flowed over my shoulders in a cloud of curls. I gripped his shoulders and leaned in until our breath collided like thunder.
He didn’t break the staring contest we were inadvertently having.
Even when I flicked my tongue along his lids, the turbulent green of his eyes still held me.
The music piping through his house was a bluesy guitar-heavy song with a singer I didn’t recognize. I let myself fall into the slow, drugging beat that matched the way I felt as we finally tumbled into a deep kiss.
One of his hands lifted into my hair, his fingers sinking into my thick curling strands as he turned my head to get ever deeper.
There was nothing sexier than a man who knew how to kiss.
Especially when most men didn’t give a shit about anything other than the final destination of getting his dick wet.
Griffin, not so much.
He was going to rock me into another damn orgasm, and I’d be lost again. He groaned when I backed up, but I distracted him by dragging my breasts across his chest as I snaked a hand into his sweatpants.
Hot.
Hard.
Impressive.
I peeled back his sweats and stroked him.
The kiss churned and burned with each stroke of my hand. I caught a drop of precum on my fingertip then I tore my mouth away from his.
He was breathing heavy, the green of his irises a mere thread with how blown out his pupils were. Untamed for me.
I brought my finger up to my mouth, licking the salt away.
He dragged me back against his mouth, chasing the taste. Drawing it off my tongue.
Fucking hell.
His other hand moved to my hip, then he moved around to cup my ass. He snaked his two middle fingers between my cheeks and down deep. Lost to the pleasure, I tipped forward until he could slide into my wetness.
“So fucking wet for me,” he panted against my mouth. “From just rubbing on me, darlin’?”
“Rock hard for me for the same reason?”
He groaned as I tightened my hold. “Always hard for you. From that first day when I jumped over the bar to fix that tap.” He laughed against my mouth as he grunted when I did a little twist with my grip. “You were spitting mad at me.”
“I make the rules who is in my space.” I brought my hand up to lick my palm to stroke him again.
“And now I’m allowed in your space?” He smiled against my mouth. “In all your warm, hot spaces?”
I chuckled. “You want inside me?”
“Like air.”
My heart raced at his words.
It was just the lust talking.
I reached around him to drag at his sweats to get him free. He lifted his hips, and we laughed as we fumbled out of the last of our clothes and kicked them to the floor.
“Oh, shit. Wait.” He curled his arms around me and scooted to the end of the couch for the sweatpants. He groaned at our full body contact.
No cotton between us now.
His or mine.
Just a little bit of a different angle and he’d slip right in. Distraught at waiting another minute, my voice became even huskier. “What, you want to put them back on?”
He laughed as he dug into a pocket. “No, but I gotta put this on.”
I snatched the condom from him and tore it open. “I do love a man who thinks ahead.”
“Dreams ahead,” he countered as he collapsed against the back of the couch. He groaned out an oath as I gripped the tip of the latex and rolled it down his swollen length.
I rose onto my knees, eager as I dragged the tip of his cock along my clit once, then twice before I shivered.
He dropped back his head and a long, belabored, “fuck,” rolled through his chest.
I looked down at the shadows and the sheen of sweat that gathered along his lower belly. The trimmed hair at the base of his cock, slightly coarse along my hand as I tucked him inside of me, holding him at the threshold of my pussy with a quick, indrawn breath before taking him fully inside of me.
The invasion was breath-stealing.
All the teasing, all the sweet words, all the endless touches had created this moment.
There was only one first time with a man. The anticipation burned and bloomed inside of me.
I lifted my gaze and locked with his. His eyes were dark with need and every muscle in his glorious body was tight—including the one filling me up so perfectly.
I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and started to move.
He gripped my hips, dragging me tighter against him until there was no space between us. Just heat and fullness and the most glorious angle.
He lifted a hand to the back of my head and covered my mouth to invade there, as well. I gave up the pretense of space and wrapped around him as he drove up inside of me again and again.
Sweat-slick skin added to the overwhelming friction as we chased the end.
Our kisses exploded into a chaotic meeting when our teeth clicked together and the quick pain unleashed a laugh so deep inside of me, I was shocked.
He tugged my hair until my neck was exposed to him. He nibbled his way down to my shoulder, his chuckles light against the intensity brewing between us.
Turning the extreme overwhelm into blissful laughter, I hooked my arm around his shoulder and rose onto my knees to slide him an inch away from free before I teased my way down his shaft, enjoying the delicious glide.
His jaw firmed and the pleasure was wreathed in a grin that stole my breath for a whole new reason.
He slowed my progression on the next stroke, tipping me forward so that he hit something so deep inside of me that a flashpoint of orgasm ripped through me before I was ready for it.
“That’s it, darlin’.” His voice was little more than a growl as the easy became a punishing thrust that kicked the orgasm into a freefall of the divine.
I had no choice but to hold on.
My name was an oath as he stilled inside of me, jerking against me as he moved his grip to my thighs and opened my legs wider until he was deeper still as if he wanted no space. The growl as he came was guttural and the relief shimmered between us.
My body and pussy would burn for hours after this—reminding me of him endlessly.
As if I could forget.
I sagged against him, dropping my forehead to his shoulder as we both dragged in gasping breaths against the car crash that was our first time together.
It should be the only.
Leave it as the perfect and wild. Something I could take with me to Miami.
But I knew once wouldn’t be enough. Not with this aftermath.
His palm coasted up my back to grip my shoulder as he held me tight against him.
The urge to detach was ingrained in me.
I even attempted to pull away, but he just shushed me quietly.
Once my heart rate returned to a steady rhythm, the familiar tones of City and Colour—one of my favorite bands—filtered through the static in my brain.
“I’ve never met anyone else who knew this band,” I said quietly.
He just continued to hold me close for a few moments before he finally spoke. “I got this crate of albums in…” he trailed off. “Hell, I can’t remember. Whenever we were on tour, I would go find a local record store. This one place, somewhere in the Midwest, was closing up.”
The rumble of his voice and warmth of his skin pulled at me. “If only they held out for the record boom.”
He huffed out a soft laugh. “One nice thing about the vintage revolution happening these days. There’s nothing quite like the hiss of a needle on vinyl.”
“We can agree there.”
“Good to know. Anyway, this album was in a crate of albums I got for ten freaking bucks. I found a few gems in there—but this album was definitely a highlight. I also found a guy named Matthew Mayfield.”
“Oh, I like him too.”
He rubbed his bearded chin against my hair. “Got one of mine in that stash of yours?”
“Maybe.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay if you don’t. I won’t hold it against you.”
I shifted, still very aware that we were living in a precarious moment. “I actually liked Morning Pages .”
He laughed. “Pretty sure you were the only one.”
“It was different from your other albums. Something about the lyrics got me a few times.”
His hand eased and stroked down my back.
I hated that I missed the tight hold.
“Irene and Marcus were enjoying a rare moment of happiness.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“For writing, it sure was. I swear, Marcus only wrote when he was in the middle of a tirade or existential crisis.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, I got it. I leaned back to look at him. “He didn’t help you write that one?”
“Very astute.” He pushed back my hair and cupped my face. “They left me and Baron to write it.”
“And the fans didn’t like it?”
“Some did, but overall, it was a failure.”
“Not for me.”
His lips tipped up at the corner in an almost grin. “Nice to hear it.”
“You know we have to…” I trailed off.
He laughed. “Couch sex is great until it’s not.” He reached over for the Johnny Cash shirt from his guitar and handed it to me.
It took a little fumbling, and I resisted the urge to groan from straddling him for so long. He lifted me up and I wobbled a bit before I got my feet under me.
My body had been deliciously used in the best way. I crouched and picked up my mangled thong. “Mind if I play in your spa shower again?”
He took care of the condom and grabbed his sweats. “Have at it.”
I should be running out the door. Instead, I grabbed him by the face and pressed a soft kiss on his lush mouth. “Thanks.”
Those incredible green eyes were staring into my soul a little too intently. I turned away and went down the ladder to the main living space. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t stop or look back.
I needed a minute to get myself back together.
Quickly, I strangled my hair into a braid and took a quick shower. I could smell him on my skin, and now it was transferred into his soap so I couldn’t quite get away from him.
Maybe I didn’t want to for now.
Unwilling to think about that any further, I dried off and pulled on my jeans. My underwear and last night’s work clothes were a lost cause, so the stolen shirt and my jeans would have to do.
I had a spare pair of flats in my Jeep.
When I went back out into the living room, Griffin was dishing up something in a bowl. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt hung from his back pocket.
“I really need to get home.”
“Eat first. We worked up an appetite.” He grinned over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, and his shoulders were a map of marks from me.
My stomach jittered at the proof.
I definitely needed to get out there.
But then he put the bowl of stew—Laverne’s beef stew—on the table and I was far too weak to say no. “No fair.”
He laughed and brought out the leftover biscuits from breakfast with a tub of butter. “Little early for dinner but I should set you right before you have to drive.”
I sighed and sat across from him. “Who can resist Laverne’s stew?”
“Not me.”
We kept the conversation light. Talked about the weekend opening of the taproom and the cottages he was working on with Beckett and Justin until it was closer to the summer concert series.
By the time we cleaned our bowls and finished off the biscuits, the sun was cresting along the tops of the trees.
We cleaned up in companionable silence.
“I really do need to get home. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t give me that option.”
He grinned.
I looked down at my bare toes, wiggling them before I raised my gaze to his. “Can you grab my flats out of my Jeep? They’re in the console in a bag. That gravel would hurt.”
He laughed and tugged his shirt out of his back pocket, slipping it over his head. I shamelessly skimmed my gaze over the muscles that bunched before they were hidden. “You got it.”
He crossed to the huge wooden door, paused to stuff his feet into a pair of Vans, before disappearing.
While he was gone, I gathered my clothes, wrapping them into one of my stretchy tank tops. I was a master at packing.
When he came back in, I saw the frown.
I tucked the bottom of the hem around my bundle to keep them together. “Didn’t find them?”
He held up my purse and the little satin bag. “No, I got it.”
I crossed to him and took my hobo bag, stuffing my clothes inside. “Why did you bring my bag?”
“You’ve got a flat—well, two, actually.”
“What?” I dug out my ballet flats and dropped them to the floor, then I slipped them on as I rushed to the door.
He was right behind me as I stood with my hands on my hips. “Yeah. I would just change it to your backup, but both back tires are flat.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. You must have picked up a nail in the dark.”
“But two?” I turned around. “That’s pretty impressive, even for me.”
He laughed. “Let me drive you home.”
I sighed. These particular Jeep tires weren’t exactly standard. I wasn’t exactly an off-road girl, but I’d learned that driving around in the orchard required a bit more grip than the average tires.
“I have to get this beast towed.” I patted the purple panel over my very flat tire.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Least I can do for driving my drunk ass home.”
I opened my mouth.
He held up a hand. “I got it. I’ll use Justin’s guy.”
I blew out a breath. “Fine. This makes us even.”
He grinned. “I’ll find a way to have you owe me.”
“Dream on, pal.”
“Oh, I will be dreaming about you, Lenny. No doubt about that one. Let me go grab my keys and wallet. I’ll be right back.”
I shook off that comment. I wasn’t in the mood for his flirty ways.
Two flat tires? What the hell were the chances of that?
Now everyone and their damn mother would know that my Jeep was parked in his driveway.
That was just great.